Every so often, however, I'm busy, letting the kids play, and I hear a distinct sound. It's Zoodle's frustrated cry, and it's echoing, like he's in a very confined space. And I go into the living room, knowing this is probably what I'll find:
You see, that storage ottoman is fantastic when it's 100% full, or even 50%, or 25%. But as Zoodle removes more and more toys, he leans further and further in, and eventually gets stuck with his little feet off the floor and his head in the toy bin. This photo was one of his lucky times; he has one hand out for steadiness. Sometimes both hands are on the inside, and he's hanging only by his little gut, a human teeter totter. Of course, I quickly move him (well, except that one time I couldn't stop myself from grabbing the camera for a quick pic first.)
I can imagine this is very scary for him. He's stuck with his head in a dark space, not knowing quite how to maneuver his way back to into the bright room. How frightening!
But let's be honest--any pity I might feel for the poor kid is entirely drowned out by my terribly unmerciful giggles.